A Helping Hand
by dogsrock101
Summary: Roy sits alone in a bar, grieving over the death of Lord Hector, when a certain stranger comes to him and enlightens him to the concept of death. One-shot. FE-6.


Roy was silent. He felt numb, so numb that he could no longer feel his fingers. Everything hurt. Every part of his body ached, but not with physical pain. He felt exhausted, emotionally drained, as if some part of him had slipped away.

Lord Hector was gone. Roy had not been able to help him, he hadn't been able to save him, he hadn't gotten to the castle in time. If he'd made it there quicker, if he'd just gotten to Lord Hector and healed him before it was too late, Lord Hector might be here with him…

But he was not. Roy had not made it in time; he hadn't been able to stop the death of Lord Hector.

_He was bleeding profusely, his hair was more red than blue, and his eyes were barely open. Each breath seemed to pain him. His voice was raspy and barely above a whisper…yet his fingers gripped Roy strongly, firmly. It was as if he was using all the energy he could muster to hold on to Roy. _

"…_Lead what is left of the Lycia Alliance Army...instead of me..."_

Roy burrowed his face in his hands. He took a few shaky breaths.

How could he, a sixteen year old boy, he, Roy, who still had so much more to learn, lead the Lycian Army? He could not, he simply could not! Only Lord Hector had the strength, the leadership skills to do so!

"You look like you could use a drink."

Slowly Roy put his hands down. In front of him was a stranger in a raggedy green cloak with the hood pulled up. His shoulders were slightly hunched over as if some heavy weight was bearing down upon him. He had a large mug of alcohol in his hand.

"No thank you," Roy whispered.

"Ah, smart kid." The man smiled a little, but it did not fit his lined face; it looked forced and harsh. He sat down across the table. "I don't drink much either…I always find myself half-naked in the middle of the street." Roy did not smile or laugh. The man did not notice or care, for he drank some of his beer. "But I've discovered that alcohol makes you lose sight and feeling of everything."

"…Isn't that a bad thing?" Roy muttered.

The man's smile was dry. "Depends on the situation."

Roy said nothing. The man also said nothing and turned his head. Roy's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that the stranger's neck had a long, pale cut across it.

"So," the stranger said, returning his attention to Roy, "What's a kid like you doing in a place like this?"

"I just needed some time to myself…to think."

The stranger raised an eyebrow. He looked around. "And you chose this place?"

Roy smiled a little despite himself. "It was the only place around I was allowed to stay."

The man's eyebrow rose further. "I'm surprised that you're 'allowed to stay' in a bar, of all places."

"It's really the only close place to the lodge besides the orphanage, and even that's not so close…besides, I wouldn't go there just to think…"

"Ah. I see." His eyebrows were knotted in thought. "Yes, the orphanage…" he muttered, almost to himself. He appeared to be lost in thought. Roy awkwardly cleared his throat and the stranger appeared to come out of his reverie. "You do realize that the best place to keep to yourself would've been the lodge?"

Roy shook his head. "No, Marcus—my paladin, one of the men I travel with—would be there with me. And I needed to think by myself."

"I understand…I understand." He paused for a moment, and stared right into Roy's blue eyes. Roy noted the drawn lines around the stranger's dead, weary brown eyes. "You've lost somebody." It was a statement, not a question. Roy raised his eyebrows in surprise and leaned in toward the stranger. Could he have heard correctly?

"Excuse me?"

"Somebody you knew died." The man's smile did not look harsh this time; it was a small, sympathetic smile that made him look older. "I can tell. I know that look."

Roy opened his mouth to say something when he realized he didn't know what to say. So he remained quiet, stripping his eyes away from the stranger's intense yet sympathetic gaze.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

_His eyes were changing, as if they were losing sight of what was around them, as if they could no longer see…and then his eyes were dead, dead, just as he stopped breathing…_

Roy remained silent, his hands curling up into fists underneath the table.

"I know that it hurts. I've been there."

Roy looked up at him. The green cloaked man was silent, toying with something around his neck. Something sparkling winked at Roy.

"I've been there one too many times, in fact…" He trailed off with a barely audible sigh. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Only now did Roy realize how old this man was; his eyebrows appeared to be permanently furrowed; there were lines around his mouth, eyes, and forehead; and there was something about him, something about the way he carried himself, that said he had lived a long life.

"And how did you…how did you cope with it?"

"It's not easy," the man admitted, eyes still closed. "Not easy at all. Death is a hard concept to grasp and understand and accept. It's something that will eventually happen to all of us. Yet, when it happens to another, we grieve. We grieve for what we lost, for what they lost." He was silent for some time, still toying with the object around his neck as he opened his eyes. "And it is alright to grieve. It is only natural. But we must be strong."

"How can I be strong?" Roy murmured, unable to stop himself, "When it hurts so badly?"

"You must be strong for them. For those who have risked their lives for you, for those who have placed themselves before Death's hands to save Elibe, to save others. You cannot let them down. It does hurt, I know, I know it hurts a lot." Again, his hand went to his neck. "It does. But you have to be strong—"

"What do you know?" Roy said loudly, feeling his eyes sting. "What do you know about the pain I've been through, the pain _I feel_? You don't know me! You don't know what I've been through!"

"No, I don't," admitted the stranger. He stared at the shaking Roy. "I don't know how you feel; I don't know what you've been through. But I've seen people die. I've lost loved ones." His hand tightened around the object around his neck, and it was then that Roy realized it was a chain or necklace. "And death has changed me. I am not the man I once was."

Roy was silent.

"I don't want death to change you. I need you to stay strong. You can't let death affect the way you live. If anything, it should only push you harder." He was quiet for a few moments, letting out a long breath through his nose.

"I'm sure you're not the kind of person that'll let death change who you are, but you'd be surprised at how much it changes even the best of people. I wasn't half-bad when I was your age. I was a good kid. But it all changed after I lost somebody that I loved very dearly. My whole life went downhill. Things could've been different. If I had just kept my will and move on—for her sake—I might not be talking to you right now. Death hurts, kid. It hurts a lot. But you need to act accordingly; you need to keep on moving on. I—I screwed up my life, kid. I don't you to screw yours up too.

"Eliwood—he lost his father when he was only a few years older than you. He remained strong, though, and I've always respected him for that. He grieved, but only for a short time; he knew there was work to be done, that there was a reason for his father's death, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. There's always a reason for death, whether it's by accident or purpose, and in Hector's case, he died for Lycia. We cannot let the cause of his death go in vain. Hector died for a noble cause, and you will carry out the noble request he has left you with."

Roy was silent for a long time, letting the information sink in. He certainly didn't want Lord Hector to die for nothing. He didn't want to disappoint him. He had given up his life to protect those he cared for, and Roy knew he couldn't let him down. He wouldn't. Lord Hector wouldn't want that, his father wouldn't want that, his mother wouldn't want that…

"Wait," Roy said suddenly, looking up. He had just realized something. "How did you know about Lord Hector?"

The man's response was only a gentle smile. He looked softer and more caring than before.

"Who are you?" Roy demanded. "How did you know Lord Hector? Do you know my father too?"

"I'm just another man fleeing from the law. Which reminds me, I must get going." He made a move to get up.

"Wait!" Roy shouted, standing up so hastily that he knocked over his chair. "I need to know who you are! Please!"

"My name's unimportant, kid. You might've even heard it a few times and never thought much of it."

Roy's eyebrows furrowed. "When would I have heard your name?"

The stranger shrugged. "When it was wasn't being used in a nice way. Maybe Hector cursed it out when he was having 'one of those days'."

Roy's eyebrows furrowed even further. This man was making no sense.

The stranger stood up and walked up to Roy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Lead Lycia. Hector and Eliwood have faith in you." He paused, staring down straight into his eyes. "And so do I."

He started to walk off, the raggedy green cloak flying behind him. Roy turned and shouted after him,

"Thank you."

The man paused and turned. He grinned. The way his muscles stretched around his lips hinted that he hadn't grinned like that in a very long time. "You're welcome, Roy. When you next see your father, tell him that Mark sends him the best regards."

"Your name…your name is Mark?" Roy said excitedly. The stranger's response was a small smirk. He waved Roy goodbye and walked out of the bar before Roy could say anything else.

Slowly, Roy sat back down his chair. He would have to head for Ostia tomorrow and lead the Lycian Army. And he was going to make sure he protected Lycia with all his might, just like Lord Hector had. He would not disappoint him. Right now, though…

Throwing a few gold coins on the table, he stood up and headed toward the door. He needed to find Marcus and ask him if he knew anybody by the name of Mark.

* * *

_So that was that. I've always wanted to write a little one-shot between Roy and Mark. I supposed that the best time for them to interact would be after Hector's death because both of them were so connected to him, yet Mark had gone through so many deaths in his life that he was used to it unlike Roy. Roy is still pretty young and this was just Mark's way of helping him move on from Hector's death. _

_Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!_


End file.
